


Blowing Smoke

by FestiveFerret



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blowjobs, Happy Ending, In more ways than one, M/M, Oral Fixation, Porn with a dash of plot, Quitting Smoking, Smoking, Smoking Kink, Using Blowjobs, You Can Have A Little Romance With Your Porn, as a treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:02:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24064012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret
Summary: Steve wants Tony to quit smoking. Tony needs something else in his mouth if it can't be a cigarette. Steve, obligingly, provides.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 49
Kudos: 757





	Blowing Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you to TheRollingStonys for the prompt: "tony is trying to quit smoking and instead of using gum to keep his mouth busy, he finds himself giving Steve blowjobs every time he wants a smoke. Steve doesn’t complain" Obviously this was made just for me so I had to do it :P
> 
> Thank you to the PotS Discord for spurring me on, sabre for naming it, and ashes for beta. 
> 
> (If you like this, you might enjoy my two other smoking kink fics: [Smoke Break](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17524358) and [Nicotine Hit](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12076557))

When Steve catches him out on the balcony with a cigarette between his lips, Tony can't really say he's surprised. It's a shared balcony on the tower and any of the Avengers might have caught him. Sure, it's three in the morning, so he'd kind of expected to be left alone, but after a few weeks of living together, it's pretty clear Steve's not much for sleeping, so Tony should have been prepared, really.

What he isn't prepared for is how sad Steve looks. "You smoke?" Steve asks morosely, a deep divot in his brow.

"Ah, shit." Tony hooks his wrists over the edge of the balcony, as if he's somehow less caught if he doesn't have the cigarette between his lips. "Yeah." He tacks on a, "Sorry," cause it feels weirdly needed. 

Steve leans against the railing next to him. "I've read it's pretty bad for you. Like _really_ bad for you."

"It is…" Tony twists the butt between his fingers. It feels sort of strange to smoke in front of Captain America but there's one good hit left on the cigarette and he can't quite bring himself to snub it out. He turns away and draws in a lungful of the bitter smoke, along with its full body rush, then lets it out slowly. He turns and finally presses the butt into the ashtray and the remaining ashes flicker and whisk away into the breeze. "I picked up the habit when I took over as CEO. There's lots of cigars and stuff in boardrooms, but it's also a good excuse to put a meeting on pause for a bit. And it's a good way to network. I know it's a shitty habit though." He adds another, "Sorry."

Steve sighs. "Yeah, I get it. Everyone smoked in the army. I just… I worry about you." The way Steve's voice goes soft makes Tony want to chuck the whole pack over the railing and never smoke again.

"I could try and quit?" falls out of his mouth without his permission.

But Steve perks up like a golden retriever whose owner is reaching for the leash. "Really?"

"I mean -" Tony shrugs "- I've tried to quit before without success, but it's not like you're wrong. It's a bad habit. I don't want to die of lung cancer when there's plenty of other things trying to kill me."

"I could - uh - I could help?" Steve's cheeks have pinked a bit and _god_ he's standing so close and Tony can smell his clean bright scent mixing in with the bitter tang of the smoke. 

"Yeah?" 

"Like, maybe if you feel like smoking, you could come see me instead? And we can -" Steve shrugs "- take your mind off it? If you think that would help."

Tony finds himself nodding. "Yeah. Okay. We can… we can try that."

"Okay good." Steve brightens up again and that's pretty fucking worth it, even though Tony knows how shitty the next few weeks are going to be sans-nicotine.

Steve starts to bounce off to go help little, old ladies cross the street, or rescue kittens from trees, or something, but Tony's hand clenches in his pocket and he calls after him. "Wait!" Steve stills and Tony holds out his half-finished pack of cigarettes. "You should take this. It's my last one. Then at least I have the walk to the store to talk myself out of it."

"Oh." Steve takes the pack. "Okay."

"Just don't - don't throw it out just yet?"

"Yeah, alright. I'll keep it. And then if you want one, you come to me, right?"

"Right."

Tony knows this is a terrible fucking idea, but the smile on Steve's face makes it impossible to remember why.

**

Tony regularly smokes twice a day - once in the morning and once when he finishes work, occasional middle-of-the-night balcony visits notwithstanding - and he makes it past the first one by mainlining caffeine, but by dinner he's got the itch under his skin that won't go away. He tries running on the treadmill. He tries chewing gum. He tries getting lost in Iron Man projects.

Nothing works.

Well, he promised Steve he'd go to him if he got a craving, right? He's at the elevator before he's really decided what he's going to do, and the next thing he knows, he's knocking on Steve's door. 

It's only a few seconds before Steve opens the door. He's holding a bowl in one hand and has a spoon stuck in his mouth and _fuck_ Tony wants that spoon for himself. He just wants _something_ in his _mouth._ He pushes a word out of it instead. "Hey."

Steve looks confused for all of two seconds as he steps back to let Tony in and then realization visibly dawns. "Oh," he says around the spoon. "Smoke?"

"God, yes," Tony whines. "Please?"

Steve smiles and shakes his head. He takes the spoon out of his mouth which is deeply relieving for some reason. He puts the bowl on the counter by the sink with the spoon in it and turns around facing Tony. Tony shuffles a little closer. Steve smells like vanilla. "Can you hold out?" Steve asks, and it takes Tony a moment to remember what they were talking about.

"I guess." He huffs and shoves his hands in his pocket to keep from sucking a knuckle between his teeth. His tongue rubs obsessively against the roof of his mouth. "You said we could… distract or whatever."

"Yeah, of course. Movie?" Steve offers. "Or a video game?"

Tony bounces on the balls of his feet. "Not really distracting enough."

"Oh." Steve's face falls, and Tony considers bolting for the corner store, but then Steve rolls his damn puppy-dog eyes back up to Tony and he leans back against the counter instead, hands still in his pockets. "Have you tried the patch?"

But Tony's already shaking his head. "It's not the nicotine that gets me. I mean, don't get me wrong, the nicotine is fucking great, but the patch doesn't help _at all._ It's - it's my oral fixation that makes this so damn hard. I just want to _feel_ the cigarette in my mouth. Ugh."

Steve swallows heavily. "Gum?"

"Nope." Tony sighs. "Honestly the only thing that -" he cuts himself off.

"What?"

"Well… I did quit for a while, about six weeks. But they say it takes three months to get over it completely and we broke up before I could get there."

"Broke up?"

Tony realizes he gave himself away somewhat, and with the way Steve grips onto things like the stubborn asshole he is, there's no way he can back track now. "Uh… yeah. I mean - the reason I quit was - I was dating someone at the time and uh -"

"They didn't like you smoking?" Steve offers, and Tony could take the out, but it'd be a lie.

"Nope. He smoked too." He pushes up so he's standing straight again. Steve's going to kick him out any minute anyway so he might as well stop getting comfortable. "Nah, he gave me something else to do with my mouth," Tony says. Unable to resist any longer, Tony snatches Steve's spoon out of his bowl and shoves it between his lips. He sucks the end of it, tasting the remnants of Steve's ice cream and shudders. It's _almost_ good.

Steve swallows again, his eyes fixed on the spoon. "He?"

"Yeah," Tony says around the spoon. He slides it free of his lips, chasing it with his tongue. "Dave."

"What did you…?" Steve breaks off the questions and shuffles where he stands.

Tony takes another step closer. "Don't worry, Steve. Not a sacrifice I'd ask you to make. But I think I'd better go before…" He licks the spoon. "Before I steal all your silverware."

 _"Sh-"_ Steve breaks off what sounded like half a curse with a cough. 

Tony turns to go but iron fingers get a grip in the sleeve of his shirt.

"Tony… I care about you. I don't want you to get sick. Whatever you need."

And that's - well, that's _interesting,_ is what it is. "Really?"

"Really."

"So if I…" Tony steps forward again, backing Steve up against the counter. He puts a hand on either side of Steve's impossibly narrow hips and grips the granite. He's close enough to share breath. "If I…"

"Yeah," Steve breathes. 

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable," Tony whispers, but when he drops his gaze down, he can see that Steve already is, and Tony leaving isn't the relief he'll need. "Or -"

"Please," Steve groans, and Tony drops to his knees so fast they crack.

He and Steve both reach for Steve's zipper at the same time, but Tony bats him away, until Steve grips the counter again and squeezes his eyes shut. Tony pops Steve's button then peels open his zipper like the plastic wrap on a cigarette pack. He presses forward and breathes in, face jammed in the crease of Steve's hip, and he can feel Steve shudder against him. He smells musky and bitter and Tony wants to taste it on his tongue, breathe it into his lungs, get high off it.

He digs both hands into Steve's waistband and flicks his eyes up, waiting. Steve doesn't seem to be breathing, his chest statue-still, eyes wide, but he nods, and Tony tugs down.

Tony leaves Steve's pants trapped around his thick thighs and turns his attention to the mouthwatering cock he's just exposed. It's better than sliding a fresh cigarette out of a new pack. Steve's rock hard already, his tip wet with precome and his sizable cock juts straight out towards Tony's mouth like a plea. 

Tony sticks his tongue out and gently taps the head of Steve's cock with it, getting his first taste. Steve groans and his hips twitch forward, just a little. Tony licks again then parts his lips and wraps them around the head. He laps up the precome that's dripped free, and Steve tastes even better than he expected. He's bitter and male and rough, more like a cigar than the light, sweet cigarettes Tony started smoking in college. Tony sucks experimentally, and Steve gasps, breaking into a deep, satisfying moan as Tony pushes even lower. 

He takes his time, feeling every inch of Steve, letting Steve's cock push between his lips and lever his jaw apart. Steve's heavy on his tongue and it makes Tony inhale short draws of air through his nose as Steve's length starts to threaten his airway. His head spins and he swallows the drool that's building up which just makes his mouth roll and suck around Steve's cock. Tony doesn't stop until his nose is pressed into the short, dark curls around the base of Steve's cock and he breathes in then swallows, but Steve's too much to swallow around and spit leaks down over his lips.

Tony's head spins pleasantly, and he feels the energizing rush of the first hit of nicotine spike through his veins. Steve flushes through him, and he has no doubt he could run a marathon if needed - everything is achievable in that moment.

"God -" Steve squeaks out, and Tony flicks his eyes up again to see Steve staring down at him. His eyes are bright and wide and his cheeks are so pink Tony might wonder if he got into Natasha's makeup. His tongue is caught between his teeth and if Tony weren't too busy sucking his cock, he'd pull that little pink tease between his own lips and tease it sore.

Tony lets his eyes fall shut because he has a job to do and Steve's expression melting into a puddle above him is nothing but distracting. He rocks back, bracing his weight with his toes on the floor, until he can roll his tongue along the sensitive edge right under the head of Steve's cock then presses forward again, letting spit slick his way so it's smooth and tight. 

The itch is soothed, fading away into pure pleasure as Tony swallows and sucks and bobs his head up and down. When his own cock presses painfully against his zipper, he drops a hand to his lap and grinds up against it as he buries his face in Steve scent and massages his cock with his throat muscles. Steve is shaking now, each slide of Tony's mouth down his hot length making him whimper and _fuck_ Tony needs that last hit. He needs the soothing finish, warm and bitter and rough to drive away the last vestiges of this ever-present need he's trying to shake.

He moves faster, thrusting up against the pressure of his own palm as he grips a handful of Steve's rucked down jeans with his other hand to keep himself from falling. He swallows Steve over and over reveling in the way he shoves deep into his throat, nearly choking him for a moment before he's gone again. Steve's long and thick and dripping enough precome that Tony can taste it on every slide back, a steady stream leaking onto his tongue and mixing with the musky taste of sweat and Steve's skin. 

He's high - buzzed up and zoned out, craving more but also knowing by the throb in his lungs and the tingling build in his cock that he can't last out much longer on either front. When the firm pressure of Tony's hand combined with his rocking hips proves too much, he chokes as he comes, jerking and pulsing in his pants as he slams down around Steve's cock, right to the base. He cries out and maybe it's seeing him come or maybe it's the vibrations of his high-pitched keen around Steve's dick, but the next thing he knows, Steve's cursing like a drunk sailor and flooding Tony's mouth with his hot, thick reward.

Tony swallows eagerly, lapping his way back up Steve's length to clean him off until Steve whimpers and gently guides him away with one hand. Tony, unable to keep a grin off his face, pushes up to his feet and for a long moment they just stare at each other.

"How long did you say it takes to quit?" Steve asks breathily, his knuckles still white where they grip the counter.

Tony wipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. "Three months. Give or take."

"Okay." It's less a word than it is a breath with the hint of agreement floating on it.

Tony leans in. "You willing to give for three months and let me take?"

Steve nods, hazy eyes clearing into lucidity as his brow creases. "Whatever you need, Tony. I'm here for you."

Tony nods. "Okay." He straightens his pants and walks out.

Tony sleeps like a fucking rock that night.

**

Tony manages another day and a half riding off the buzz from Steve's cock, but by morning of day three, he's feeling twitchy again. He wakes up in a start from a dream about smoking so real that he can feel the ghost of carpet burn on his knees.

He gets up, showers, and tries to open his email, but it's not happening. His teeth feel like they're each vibrating at a different frequency and his eyes are hot and burning. He wants to crawl out of himself. Instead of going down to his SI office, he goes up to Steve's apartment and knocks on the door.

Steve looks fresh and bright like he slept well but has been up for hours, and he smiles when his eyes land on Tony. "You okay?" he asks, and Tony pouts; he didn't think his discomfort was that obvious. Then again, Steve might just be going off the fact that he's here at all.

"Can't stop thinking about having a smoke," Tony says, jiggling up and down on one foot.

Steve looks sympathetic. Among other things. "Come on in."

Tony shuffles in. There's something different about this time - like what's one sudden, craving-driven blowjob between friends, but two _means something._ Two means this is how Tony's quitting, which also means, first of all, that it's going to change things between him and Steve, and second of all, that he's not quitting alone. Which might be the only way he can actually quit.

But might create other problems, like how do you quit Steve Rogers?

They hover in awkward silence for a moment, and then Steve says, "You need a distraction?" and that breaks any tiny resolve Tony might have had.

He spins around, breathes, "Yeah," and backs Steve up against the couch. Steve goes down easily, sprawled sideways on the cushions, and Tony climbs up on his knees at the other end. He braces his feet against the arm - because while he does have the core stability of a man who can pay for his abs, he's in his forties and yoga only goes so far - and folds forward over Steve's lap.

Steve says, _"Fuck,"_ so quietly that Tony's heart starts doing violent things in his chest, and he decides to bury himself in Steve's crotch in case it shows on his face. 

He breathes hot and heavy over the bulge of Steve's cock, right through the fabric of his pants, until Steve starts writhing and Tony takes pity on him, needing to taste him, feel him in any way. Tony gets his pants open and pulls his cock out. Steve smells musky and bitter like tobacco, and the urge to draw him deep inside, within himself, has Tony's lips wrapping around his dick and swallowing down almost immediately.

It's too much - Steve isn't small - and Tony hadn't worked up enough spit yet to ease the slide, but the burn in his jaw his satisfying, like the burn in his mouth when he took too deep a breath on a smoke, and Steve makes a truly delightful noise beneath him, so it feels worth it. Tony settles in, one forearm braced on the couch cushions to keep him stable, his other hand wrapping around the base of Steve's cock. He strokes Steve off as he swallows him down, over and over, until his lips are tingling, his jaw is aching, and his tongue is smeared with precome. 

Steve's legs start to shake and both his hands twist through Tony's hair. He also starts to talk - "God, Tony, fuck, that's good, oh _shit,_ yes, please, _Tony, Tony, Tony" -_ and that's enough to push Tony right to the edges of his sanity. He sucks harder, letting Steve thrust up with his hips and push down with his hands.

By the time Steve groans and stills and Tony's mouth is flooded with enough come that it dribbles over his lips and down his chin, Tony's neck, shoulders, and arms are all aching. It's a good ache though, the kind of ache that makes him feel shaky and worked over, like a racehorse after the finish line. 

Tony flops sideways on the couch, wedged between Steve's legs and the back cushions. Steve pants for a while then his clothes rustle as he props himself up on his elbow. "Tony? Do you need, um -" Steve's eyes drift down, but Tony shakes his head. This is the kind of full body buzz that'll get him through a whole day of work without breaks. The way his cock throbs and presses against his fly gives him a special kind of focus he can usually only pull out of a cigarette. But maybe it shouldn't be surprising that he can pull it out of Steve too.

He pushes up to his feet, only wobbling a little, and grins down at Steve who looks the picture of debauchery, pants pushed down, cock hanging out, shirt rucked up, hair wild. "Thanks." Tony can feel the echo of Steve's dick between his lips as they form around the words instead, sore and stretched and still tasting like come.

"Um. Yeah. Any time. Thank you?"

Tony laughs and leaves. He has his most productive day in the workshop in three months with Steve lingering on his tongue the whole time.

**

Next time Tony steps into Steve's apartment, he can smell cigarette smoke leaking out of Steve's thick, plush sweater. Tony stops, barely in the door, and breathes in deeply.

"Um," Steve says. "If this was a bad idea, I'll go take a shower right now. I just thought it might - you might want to smell…"

"Fuck, yeah." Tony charges, and they end up in a mess on the living room floor. Steve laughs when Tony buries his face in his sweater and sucks it deep in his lungs. The scent is a mix of smoke and Steve, and, _god,_ Steve must have smoked one of _Tony's_ cigarettes, his plush, pink lips wrapped around it, white whorls surrounding his face, eyes hooded.

Tony comes in his pants long before Steve rolls him over and kneels over him, fucking his face until he shoots down his throat. 

Tony wipes his mouth, gets up, and peels the sweater off Steve, revealing nothing but a sinfully tight, white undershirt. Tony bundles the sweater in his arms. "This is mine now," he growls, and Steve smirks.

"All yours."

Tony wears it to bed every night until it stops smelling like smoke, then wears it most mornings too, while it still smells like Steve.

**

Tony makes it five weeks before he wakes up in the middle of the night with an unbearable craving. They don't happen often, but when they do, they're impossible to ignore. Steve had caught him in the middle of one, the first time, and this one slams into Tony with just as much force. 

Tony tries to wait it out, not wanting to wake Steve up at two in the morning for something this stupid, but after lying awake for forty-five minutes, sweating and shaking and wanting to put his fist through a wall, Tony gives up and slides out of bed.

He's only wearing a t-shirt and boxers with tiny bulldogs on them that Rhodey got for him, but he doesn't register that until his bare feet hit the cold elevator floor and then it's too late to go back for socks. Or pants.

Tony's in a sort of haze as he pushes Steve's front door open and slips inside. The apartment is dark, which sucks, because he wouldn't feel so bad if Steve were awake anyway. But he's not, so Tony goes to his bedroom. He means to knock, but the door is open, and Steve - well, fuck. 

He's gorgeous. He's sprawled out, somehow looking too big for a king, wearing nothing but boxer briefs that cling sinfully tightly around his thick thighs. He's got one pillow sideways with his arm hooked under it and Tony wonders if he fell asleep clutching it. He wonders who Steve thinks about when he presses a pillow to his chest and closes his eyes.

Tony shuffles in, swinging the door nearly closed behind him, and climbs up on the bed. He crawls up between Steve's spread legs then bends down and wraps his lips around his cock right through the fabric of his underwear. 

Steve gasps and twitches under him and a hand snaps to the back of Tony's head and grips a handful of his hair. The hand doesn't drag him away, though; it pushes him down further.

Tony needs his own hands to keep him braced on the mattress, and Steve's grip isn't letting him move away to adjust, so he's forced to nuzzle himself into Steve's boxer briefs with his nose. He whimpers with frustration when the elastic snaps down against Steve's stomach again but he finally gets his lips around the end of Steve's cock and that first press on his tongue shudders all the shivers away. 

When Steve thrusts up and his cock slides in deep, hitting the back of Tony's throat, it shoves away the twisting, roiling anxiety that had been storming over Tony's mind and everything just becomes a soft, easy haze. 

"Tony…" Steve breathes softly, like he's still dreaming, a little bit, and it makes Tony's heart pound to think that Steve could be dreaming of him.

He swallows and bobs his head; he knows what Steve likes now, and this part feels like clicking a lighter. But it's the first breath in that sorts him out, puts his head on straight, and he won't get that until he makes Steve come.

The heavy press of darkness blurs the minutes together, and Tony has no idea how long he's there, sucking and pushing and swallowing. His arms are shaky from holding his weight and his jaw aches _so good_ and Steve is gushing precome, thighs starting to vibrate against Tony's chin. He drops down again so his nose hits Steve's hip crease and suddenly Steve gasps and shakes and Tony's mouth floods with come.

It's like a metal band around his chest is suddenly unlocked and even though Tony absolutely cannot breathe - between Steve's cock caught in his throat and enough come that one wrong move will send it right out his nose, there's no oxygen to be had - but it's the first time he feels like he's taken a full breath since the last time he was in Steve's apartment.

He starts laughing - because that's how fucking giddy he is - which is a terrible idea because he's dripping come and spit and the nose thing is a legitimate concern, and Steve is still whining his way down from his orgasm. But then Steve's hand releases Tony's hair and he jerks back, coughing and swallowing until he's no doubt pink and sweaty, but at least well oxygenated again. Tony grabs the corner of the sheet and wipes his face on it, not caring that it'll make Steve's lip curl up when he finds out. He flops sideways because all his muscles have been replaced with pudding, but it means his feet end up tangled with Steve's.

"Are you -" Steve starts, takes a few heavy breaths "- feeling better?"

"Mumph," Tony manages, halfway asleep again already.

"Okay, good."

And Tony's out like a lightbulb.

**

Tony wakes up to find he's replaced the pillow, somehow, in the night, and Steve's arm is wrapped around him instead.

He also wakes up with a nicotine craving and Steve wakes up with a glint in his eye, so he ignores the other thing and lies back against the headboard so Steve can fuck his throat. Tony grips Steve's thigh with both his legs and grinds up against it, coming in his boxers when Steve pulls back and shoots all over his face.

He's over an hour late for work - twenty minutes sucking Steve off and forty-five in the shower erasing all the evidence. He can't seem to scrub off the way Steve smiled at him when they blinked awake side by side in Steve's bed, though. That one might be a permanent mark.

**

The cravings start to get a little better after that. The nicotine's hold is truly gone and done so Tony feels less like he's about to crawl out of his own skin, but it also means that the blowjobs start to take on a purposeful nature. He replaces his cigarette routine with a Steve routine that starts to become just as needed as the cigarette between his lips used to be. Once in the morning, once after work, he goes up to Steve's apartment and goes to his knees. Sometimes Steve is sitting on the couch, watching TV, sometimes he's eating dinner, sometimes he's on his computer, answering emails.

He never once tells Tony no; he never once tells him it's weird or awkward; he never stops breathing Tony's name out like benediction.

Tony only goes to him in the night twice more, and both times he masters his jelly legs enough to get himself back to his own room to fall asleep. Alone. 

Tony comes rubbing off against Steve's couch, against his leg, gripped in his own hand, and, once, memorably, rutting up against the smooth surface of Steve's shield, in the bathroom down the hall from Fury's office. Steve never touches him, never asks to, and Tony's really fucking grateful, because that would be his undoing.

They don't talk about it either.

Weirdly, their new arrangement makes it less awkward being around Steve instead of the other way around. Team meetings are easier, team dinners more relaxed. Steve banters easily with him now, throwing an arm around his shoulders like he would with Thor or Natasha, whipping quips at Tony as fast as he can lob them back the other way. Their fighting is in sync, solid, steady. It feels good. Tony's never had a team before, not like this, not one he could trust to have his six, but they do, Steve does.

And then also Tony sometimes shoves him in a supply closet and sucks his higher brain functions out through his dick.

Like tonight. Alcohol makes Tony want to smoke, and free-flowing, socially-lubricating alcohol edged with balconies of people lighting up makes him want to smoke even more. There's no escape at this event. He can smell it, every time the breeze comes in, it brings the acrid tint of tobacco with it, and the way the party is laid out, he can't find a spot where he can get a decent breath in. He's been ten weeks without a smoke, and he's sure as _fuck_ not going to give up now, but it's so damn hard. 

"Need some air?" A sweet-smelling young man with dark hair and dark skin and bright eyes is grinning up at Tony, batting his eyelashes, and Tony says, "Yeah," before he's really processed that he's being hit on.

He does need some air though - clean air - and he can handle a little flirting, so he lets himself be led off to a balcony. The man leans back against the railing of the balcony while Tony breathes in deeply and bites his lip. "Pretty cool you're getting an award."

Tony shrugs. "I suppose, but where am I going to put it? Mantle's full."

The guy chuckles. "Too many awards?"

"Oh no, it's where I keep my antique, ceramic, chicken statue collection."

The guy barks out a laugh and shifts a little closer. It's kind of nice, if Tony's honest with himself, to be hit on, especially from someone who's young and hot and clearly a little starstruck. It does wonders for the ego. Besides, it's not like Tony's going to do anything about it, he's just enjoying the attention, who wouldn't?

Then the guy goes and ruins it.

He pulls a pack of Lucky Strikes out of his breast pocket and shakes one loose. "Gotta light?" he purrs, leaning in even closer and _ugh._ Tony wants to say yes, he wants to flick his lighter open and watch the end of the cigarette go bright as the guy sucks in his first drag, he wants to breathe in the smoke this kid breathes out, he wants -

"Steve."

Tony hadn't heard footsteps behind him but suddenly Steve is right there, hand cupping Tony's elbow, fingers digging in just this side of too hard. "Sorry," he says to the other man, icicles dripping off the word, "but I need Iron Man for a minute."

"Oh, no problem," the guys says, taking four large steps backwards. "All yours. Nice to meet you, Mr. Stark."

Tony gives him an apologetic smile as Steve drags him off the balcony and down the hall.

"Tell me you weren't going to break your streak, Tony." Steve's sad again. Tony hates it when Steve's sad. "You're doing so well."

"Course not. I didn't even know the guy was going to smoke."

"Oh." Something twists in Steve's expression. "You just… went out to -" He breaks off.

"Talk," Tony supplies. "Get some air. People like to say they've met me." Tony hides the way his stomach is twisting around champagne and cheese puffs with a grin. "Why? You jealous?"

Steve snorts out a genuine laugh, and that gets Tony laughing too. "Maybe a little bit," Steve admits quietly, and he bumps Tony's shoulder with his own. "You're so good at these sorts of things and I always feel a bit lost. Just want to keep you close, I guess."

Tony hums and shoves his hands in his pockets. He can still smell smoke in the air; it's not as enticing as it was, but it's still giving him ideas, and these days, those kinds of ideas take the form of the man standing right next to him. "How close?" Tony asks, sure that the way he husks out the words will be enough to clue Steve in to what he's suggesting.

Steve's step falters, and he turns to Tony with a raised eyebrow. "Are you - uh - craving…?"

Tony licks his lips. "I mean the guy practically shoved a cigarette in my face. Just because I didn't go out there to smoke doesn't mean…"

"Right. Okay. Um." Ever the strategist, Steve looks around, finds a door that apparently looks promising, and grabs Tony's arm to drag him through it.

It turns out to be a supply closet. Tony slams his teeth together before he can say, "Kinky," because he knows the look Steve will give him if he does and prefers the look Steve's giving him now. Pink, eager, horny as fuck.

Tony kicks the door shut behind him and crowds Steve up against the wall. He kind of wants to kiss him but that's not what they're here for so he drops to his knees and kisses Steve's thigh instead. That feels less like Something.

"You sure this is okay?" Steve asks, as if this is some gift for him and not the necessary basis for Tony's entire life right now.

"It's perfect," Tony says, and he's already tugging Steve's pants open. When Tony's hand wraps around his dick, Steve stumbles backwards into a shelf and a cascade of nearly empty bottles tumbles to the floor around them. That makes Steve giggle, which is so fucking cute that Tony has no choice but to swallow him down to the root.

It's messy and unstable and silly. There's something both hot and ridiculous about fucking around in fancy suits, and when Tony tumbles back onto his ass, licking Steve's comes from his lips, he realizes he didn't give a single thought to cigarette smoke from the moment he got his mouth on Steve. Steve's tipped halfway over, trying not to fall dick first into a mop, but he's laughing and wearing a tie and Tony's heart does a cartwheel but with that camera stabilization thing so his heart stays still and everything else spins violently around it.

"I guess we should get back to the party," Steve says, finally getting his feet free of the mop and zipping himself up. "Feel better?"

"Yes," Tony lies. He's feeling worse but he kind of loves it. Among other things.

**

Tony doesn't even realize what day it is until the reminder on his phone goes off. It's been twelve weeks - three months - to the day, since Steve first caught him on the balcony and he vowed to quit. He hasn't had a smoke in three months. Sure, it's not set in stone, there's always the chance for a relapse, but it's the longest he's gone since college; the nicotine is completely out of his system - barely even the memory there - and when he thinks about smoking, it doesn't feel like The Solution anymore. He thinks about how disappointed Steve would be and that gives it the itch of a problem, instead.

And of course, it always comes back to Steve. 

Tony can't really look too closely at any of that, only let it lurk out of the corner of his eye, but what he does know, is that this is his last chance to go to his knees for Steve - they'd agreed on three months, and if he lets this go any longer, it's going to be A Problem too, anyway - and he's going to make it count.

Tony stopped knocking ages ago, so he lets himself into Steve's apartment, but Steve's nowhere to be seen. Disappointment runs ice through Tony's veins, and he turns to go when he hears the click of a door opening. Steve's head peeks out of the bathroom door.

"Tony?"

"Oh. Sorry. I just -" Tony looks at his watch as if that answers some unasked question, and maybe it does, cause Steve nods.

"I was just about to take a shower. Sorry. Training with Nat ran late."

"No worries." Tony thinks about hot water sluicing over Steve's bare skin. He's not wearing a shirt, Tony can see that much, and his eyes cut down of their own accord to check for more further down. "I can… come back." He looks up again and a soft pink has bloomed on Steve's cheeks. "Or…?"

"Yeah," Steve breathes, and he disappears into the bathroom again, but he leaves the door open.

Tony takes that as invitation and he kicks his shoes off as he makes his way to the bathroom. Steve has his back to him, now, and it turns out he's wearing nothing but a towel, and even that falls away as Tony closes the door behind him with a soft _snick._ Steve shoots him a look that Tony can only describe as coy and steps into the glass-enclosed shower stall. The water's already on, steam filling the room, and Steve's whole body sighs with pleasure as it hits him. His cock is hard, and Tony wonders if it was like that before, or if it's all for him.

He wants it to be for him.

So Tony starts stripping off his clothes - if he gets them soaked in the shower, he won't have anything to wear back to his floor - and makes his way up to the glass door. "Room for one more?" he asks.

Steve wipes the water out of his eyes and blinks them open to look at Tony. They're both staring through the slight distortion of the glass, but Tony can see Steve's gaze caress its way down his body, can see his throat bob as he swallows. "Of course." 

Steve steps back and Tony steps in. The water's hot, which he appreciates - no one has to tell him that cold makes Steve uncomfortable, and he knows he doesn't have to explain to Steve why frigid water makes him twitch - but it means it's low on oxygen in here and Tony was already struggling to get a good breath in.

He can't help touching, and Steve shudders as Tony's hands slide over his wet chest. Firm muscles shift under his palms, skin slick and smooth. Tony can't handle not having Steve shoved down his throat for another second so he starts to drop to his knees but the tiles are hard and he braces his hand against Steve's stomach to slow his descent. Soft fingers curl around his hand and Steve grips him tight as he eases his way to the floor. Despite the fact that Tony's about to let him fuck his face, there's something chivalrous about Steve's gentle help that makes Tony's head spin. 

Tony leans against Steve's thigh, arms wrapped around, and licks idly at the head of Steve's cock. Steve makes cute little frustrated noises, his hips jerking forward, seeking more contact. Steve's taste is mostly washed away by the water, but it also means that everything's slick and slippery and hot. Tony parts his lips and suckles the end of Steve's cock, slowly working his way down. He closes his eyes to keep the spray from getting in them, but Steve shifts slightly and suddenly, Tony's protected from the worst of it. He hums his thanks and swallows another inch of Steve's length. 

It's almost lazy - and maybe that says something about how badly Tony doesn't want this last time to end - but Steve seems to be in the same mood, so it doesn't feel weird. Steve rocks slowly and gently between Tony's lips while Tony stays slumped against him, mouth slack and throat relaxed. His cheek is pressed against the warm, wet skin of Steve's thigh and Tony has to resist the urge to press in more, turn his face and find the curve of Steve's hip where he'll fit perfectly.

When Steve gets close - and Tony kind of hates that he can tell exactly how close he is now - his hand drops, instead of to Tony's hair, to where his hand rests on Steve's thigh. Their fingers wind together and Steve holds on for dear life while he pulses on Tony's tongue. 

Tony swallows and finishes with a sigh as Steve slides away. That's it. No more. He's quit smoking but his prediction has come true and he knows it's going to take a lot longer than three months to quit Steve Rogers.

Still, he pulls away, dropping his hand from Steve's and tipping his face up to the water to rinse off. Steve grabs the shampoo while Tony's cleaning up, but when he's done, he holds the bottle out to Tony, like they're showering together or something.

Tony supposes that, well, they kind of are, and his hair could use a wash - and his heart will take any more minutes he can grab with Steve - so he accepts it. They wash up in silence that would be comfortable if Tony didn't spend the whole time wondering if Steve can hear his heart pounding in his chest. 

Tony gets out first, leaving Steve to take one more rinse. He grabs a towel from the rack and rubs it all over then steps back into his boxers. This is it. He's going to leave, and they're going to go back to being friends, and these cravings are going to be a hundred times worse than cigarettes because those, at least, had been bad for Tony, but he's beginning to suspect Steve might be the opposite. 

Tony has his hand on the doorknob when Steve says, "Tony, wait." He stops, turns. Steve's out of the shower, dripping freely on the mat.

"Yeah?"

"You did it."

Tony's smile blooms slowly. He really doesn't feel that urge to smoke anymore. If someone offered him a cigarette, he'd have no problem saying no. "Yeah, I guess I did." 

"I'm really proud of you."

That makes something hot and tingling burst in his chest. "Uh. Thank you."

"You…" Steve moves closer. "You deserve a reward. For working so hard, you know?"

"Um." Tony's eyes go wide and his hands clench into fists at his side. His cock has already decided what his reward should be, but Steve probably means like a milkshake or a trip to Coney Island or -

Then Steve drops to his knees at Tony's feet and tucks the corner of his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes roll up Tony's body to his face, and Tony's heart stops and refuses to start again.

"Oh," Tony says, eloquently, "shit."

"Can I?"

"If - I'm - I mean, if you want to," Tony chokes out. His boxers are so tight he's worried about them ripping, but he can't move, can't breathe, can't think, and then Steve's nuzzling up against his thigh, both hands curling around, just below Tony's ass. 

"I want to," Steve says softly, and it's more like he's speaking to Tony's dick than his face and that should be funny, but Tony's way past funny right now and careening wildly into "so horny he might die."

"Okay." Tony can't move, but he doesn't have to. Steve's fingertips slide down his stomach, just hard enough to keep them from tickling, then hook in the waistband of Tony's boxers. Tony's been exposed to Steve before, just was for the shower, but never like this. Never with Steve's eyes fixed hungrily on every new inch of him that gets revealed.

Steve licks his lips then presses forward and licks at the base of Tony's cock, breathing hot over the length of him. Tony's cock finally pops free as his boxers curve over his ass, and Steve nuzzles into him, sliding his lips up and down. He finally closes his mouth over the tip and starts to work his way down, and Tony has to shove his knuckle between his teeth to keep from sobbing. A curse still leaks out, and that seems to spur Steve on as he wraps his fist around the base of Tony's cock and starts bobbing up and down with purpose.

Tony's fingers wander along Steve's jaw until they find the place where their bodies meet, where Steve's lips part to curve around Tony's shaft. There's something obscene about Captain America's mouth stretched into an "O" like a blowup doll, spit leaking from the corners of his lips and down his chin, eyelashes wet as he looks up through them at Tony, pleading and promising all at once.

Tony wants to stay buried in Steve's wet heat forever, but his body doesn't give him that option. He was so hard already from the feel of Steve's cock on his tongue that it's not long at all before he's on the edge. He's panting out Steve's name after every rushed, gasping pull into his lungs and there's probably too much feeling wrapped around each repeat, but Steve seems too dedicated to showing off his supersoldier throat muscles to notice. 

"I'm gonna -" Tony warns him, but Steve just sucks harder, moves a little faster, and that's it, Tony's gone. He moans, long and loud and embarrassingly high-pitched as he folds over Steve, hands pressed to his shoulders. He shudders through the waves of pleasure breaking as he throbs over Steve's tongue. There's another groan as he slides free, Steve's tongue popping out to chase him as he licks his lips.

Tony stumbles backwards then slides down the door until he's sitting on the floor, and Steve crawls over and slumps down next to him, their shoulders pressed tightly together. "Fuck," Tony breathes. "You're really good at that."

Steve is quiet for a moment, and when he does speak, his voice is rough in a way that flushes an aftershock of arousal down Tony's spine. "Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"You know… you don't have to go."

Tony gives that some thought. He's never really _wanted_ to go. He turns and meets Steve's eyes. They're close, both leaning the sides of their head against the door, and he can see flecks of green in Steve's blue. He can also see the slight twist to his brow, the way he hasn't taken a breath in since he last spoke. "I don't want to go," Tony admits.

Steve breathes out and his whole body relaxes, shoulders sliding down away from his ears. "You also don't need a craving to come here," he says, with a slight smirk this time.

It's maybe not the time to tell Steve that his nicotine cravings have been replaced by something else. Instead, he grins and lets himself tip over until their lips touch. Steve laughs into the kiss, going right over with Tony until they're sprawled on the floor then proceeds to kiss Tony so thoroughly that even if he once knew his social security number, he wouldn't be able to remember it now. Giving up smoking feels like a blip on his timeline, already ancient headlines in comparison to the breaking news that's wrapping his arms around Tony's waist and holding him close.

It's the first time they've kissed; Tony would give up pretty much anything to make sure it's not the last.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


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